A Throw Down at Chuck E Cheese's
by Gina44144
Summary: Gen, preseries story in which Dean accompanies Sammy to a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese's and Dean doesn't like the look of that rat.


Title: A Throw Down at Chuck E. Cheese's

Rating: G

Spoilers: None

Gen, preseries story in which Dean accompanies Sammy to a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese's and he doesn't like the look of that rat.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Supernatural or the Winchesters, no matter how much I may want to. I mean no offense to Chuck E. Cheese's or the poor people that have to wear the costume.

Author's Note: As per Wikipedia, the logo for Chuck E. Cheese's was identifiable as a rat until 1990 when it had a "facelift." Who knew?

----

"Dean, Dean, _Dee-ann_," Sammy yelled as he whipped open the front door and ran into their small rented house. He spied his brother lying on the couch in front of the TV and didn't think twice before launching himself on top of him.

But then Dean's face turned _green_ and he looked like he was going to puke and Sammy remembered that Dean had stayed home from school because he had the stomach flu. Sammy eased his weight off of his brother's stomach and slid down to sit on the couch by his feet.

"Sorry," he said, his excitement briefly muted by the look of pain on his brother's face.

After a few seconds, Dean finally let out the breath he'd been holding and looked angrily at Sammy. His anger faded as he saw the barely concealed excitement on his little brother's face. "Jeez, Sammy, did your teacher give you pixie sticks again or something?"

Sammy shook his head energetically, "No, I've got something even better." He held out the envelope gripped tightly in his hand and thrust it at Dean.

Once Sammy stopped moving it up and down and back and forth and what was the kid trying to do, make him throw up, he could make out the name "Sammy" written in a little kid's chicken scratch on the front.

"Nice, Sammy, real pretty envelope. Did you get my folder from school?"

Sammy humpfed at Dean's indifference to his very important letter, but tugged off his worn, army green book bag and pulled out Dean's blue folder, handing it to him.

Dean accepted it and opened it, bypassing the sheets of math problems and grammar exercises that he'd missed and picking out the business-size letter carefully sealed on the right side. He tucked it in the pocket of his sweatpants and put the folder down on the ground beside him.

Sammy watched all this and usually would've demanded to know right away what was in that envelope, but his own envelope was burning like hot coal in his hand and he needed Dean to read it **now**.

"Dee-ann," Sammy said, annoyed that Dean wasn't giving him his complete attention, and thrust the envelope back into Dean's face, squashing it up against his nose.

"Alright, alright," Dean said, taking the stupid thing from his brother's hand and lifting the already opened seal. The first thing he noticed was an ugly-ass rat with a gay little hat on his head and his arms opened wide in what Dean guessed was supposed to be a welcoming stance but just creeped him out to no end. Under the freaky, too happy rat, it said "Chuck E. Cheese's Pizza Time Theatre."

As Dean read further, he realized it was an invitation to a kid named Phillip's 6th birthday party and that would explain why Sammy was bouncing off the walls. He'd never been invited to a birthday party before and since it was in less than a week, he actually might be able to go.

Sammy was looking anxiously at Dean, bouncing up and down on the couch on his knees. "Can I go? Please? It's my first birthday party. And Chuck E. Cheese's is supposed to be sooo cool. They have lots of pizza and games and a big ball pit and an obstacle course and I want to go so so bad. Do you think Dad will let me?"

When Sammy remembered that he had to breathe every now and then, Dean finally got a chance to answer him, "I don't know. I'll have to ask him."

"Will you ask him as soon as he gets home?"

"I have to make sure he's in a good mood first. Don't want to show our hand too soon."

Sammy's smile faded a little, but he nodded in agreement. "Okay, but will you do it today?"

"Yeah."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, Sammy, just stop spazing."

"'K," Sammy said, then leapt off the couch. Dean grimaced as Sammy's movement rattled his unsettled stomach.

Sammy noticed his face and stood over him, "Are you okay, Dean?"

"I'm fine."

Sammy looked distastefully down at the bucket next to the couch. "Do you need another bucket?"

Dean shook his head, "I'm just gonna sleep for a little while." Then, he handed the invitation back to Sammy and closed his eyes.

----

When Dean opened his eyes again, the sun had set and Sammy was curled up in the old brown lazy boy watching "America's Funniest Home Videos."

Sammy laughed at the baby on screen riding on the back of a large black dog and Dean really wasn't sure why it was so funny.

He heard pots clanking together in the kitchen and knew Dad was home.

He turned back towards the TV and Sammy's face was directly in front of him. He flinched back, startled. Did the kid have to be so close?

"What are you doing? Trying to kiss me or something?"

Sammy looked deeply offended, "Nooo, but I've been waiting forever for you to wake up because Dad's home and he was laughing earlier and you have to ask him now."

"Okay, okay, just hold your horses, princess." Dean lifted the blanket off his legs and swung them over the side of the couch, carefully pulling himself to his feet. Sammy stood up with him and followed Dean to the kitchen.

"Give me the invitation," Dean said, "And stay here. I'll ask him."

Sammy relinquished the invitation and hovered by the kitchen door.

Dean walked in gingerly, his best sick expression on his face, which really wasn't hard to fake.

"Hey, Dad."

John turned and smiled at Dean, "Hey, dude, how're you feeling?"

Dean shrugged, "Okay, I guess."

John put down the pot he was filling with water and walked over to Dean, feeling his forehead. Dean tried to back away, he didn't want to be babied, but Dad couldn't be resisted.

"You still feel a little warm. You hurl today?"

"A few times."

"Until it's zero times, I want you on that couch or in your bed. I need you well."

"Okay, but I wanted to ask you something first."

"What's that?"

"Well," Dean started, pulling out Sammy's invitation from his pocket, "Sammy got this today."

John took it, opening it and reading it thoroughly.

"Chuck E. Cheese's?"

Dean shrugged, "It's some kids' place."

"I don't like it. This rat looks possessed or something."

That's what Dean had thought too, "Sammy really wants to go."

"Of course he does," John said, then went quiet for a few moments, mulling it over. "It's Saturday and I guess we'll still be here. Sammy can go, just as long as you go with him, make sure everything is okay."

Dean fingered his own envelope in his left pocket and shifted his weight uncertainly.

"But, Dad, . . ." he began, but John cut him off.

"Dean," John said seriously, "I can't give up a hunt to take Sammy to a birthday party and he's not going alone. Either you take him or he doesn't go."

"I know," Dean protested, "But, I have . . ."

His voice tattered off.

John's eyebrows rose in expectation. "What?"

Dean tried to start again, but thought of Sammy and how excited he was and stopped himself.

"Nothing," Dean said, "I'll take him."

"Alright, but I can't spare any money for a gift so you boys will have to be creative."

"Sammy's been saving some and I can help him. We'll get something at the dollar store."

John nodded, squeezed Dean's shoulder, giving him back the invitation and sending him back to the couch. When Dean walked out of the kitchen, a pair of arms was suddenly around his middle and Sammy was hugging him tight.

"You're the best, Dean! The best, the best!"

Dean tried to smile, patted Sammy's back awkwardly. "Yeah," he said absently, "I'm the best." He fingered the envelope in his left pocket again and sighed. "I'm gonna go to bed, Sammy."

"Okay!" Sammy said, taking the invitation from Dean's hand and hugging it to his chest. As Dean closed the door to the bedroom he shared with Sammy, he could hear him excitedly chattering with Dad. Usually hearing Sammy so happy was enough to make Dean feel good too, but this time his disappointment prevailed over his brother's happiness. He pulled his letter out of his pocket and stuck it under his pillow, then laid down on his side and closed his eyes, feigning sleep until it came.

----

Sammy stared at the small digital clock on the nightstand next to the bed he shared with Dean. As the red numbers finally changed from 5:59 to 6:00, he couldn't stay in bed any longer.

It was Saturday, the day of Phillip's birthday party, and he was so excited he couldn't sleep. He rolled over on his side so he was facing Dean and shook his shoulder.

Dean batted his hand away and mumbled something incoherently under his breath.

Sammy decided he had to try again. "Dean," he said, his whisper accompanying his shakes, "Dean."

Dean swatted at his hand again, "'Ammy," he slurred sleepily, "lemme alone."

"But it's Saturday and I want to go to my party."

After a few more minutes and more than a couple of shakes, Dean lifted his head from his pillow and squinted at the clock on the nightstand. "It's six o'clock," Dean said, "the party's not for another seven hours. Go back to sleep."

"I'm too excited to sleep."

"Then go watch cartoons or something. I'm going back to sleep." With that, Dean rolled away from Sammy and shut his eyes. "And if you try and wake me again, you're gonna lose a hand."

Sammy frowned at Dean, "Meanie," he whispered, but did as Dean told him, scooting out of the bed and walking into the living room. They were alone in the house; Daddy was hunting some kind of monster a few counties over. Sammy wasn't sure what it was because Dean didn't like to tell him things like that. Sometimes Sammy thought that Dean didn't know either and just didn't want him to know that.

After what seemed like hours later, Dean finally came out from their room, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Sammy jumped up off the couch and ran over to him, "Is it time?"

"It's only eight o'clock, Sammy."

"Why does time have to move so slow?"

"Easy. To torture dorks like you."

Sammy stuck his tongue out at Dean, then returned to the couch, willing time to move faster.

Finally, after eating some Lucky Charms, watching a couple more hours of TV, and getting dressed, Dean told him it was time to leave.

Dean handed Sammy his light jacket and shrugged on his own, "Alright, Sammy, let's get going. We have to walk a couple of miles."

"I don't care," Sammy exclaimed, "it's gonna be awesome!"

"You've got a weird definition of awesome," Dean said, but Sammy ignored him, running out of the house and down the short driveway.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled as Sammy reached the street. Sammy looked back and stayed put until Dean reached him. Dean held out his hand and Sammy slid his into his brother's.

"Sorry," Sammy said, "I forgot."

Dean shrugged, "Just busy streets, is all. Have to be careful."

Sammy nodded and tightened his grip on Dean's hand.

Their house was located in the outskirts of town. It took about a half hour on foot to get to the town itself, Chuck E. Cheese's included. An excited Sammy got them there in a little under that.

As soon as Chuck E. Cheese's came into sight, Sammy had to physically restrain himself from running to it, remembering what Dean said about cars and being careful.

"Dean," he said, "we're here!"

"Yeah, I can see that."

Dean opened the door for his little brother, following behind him. After taking in the place, Dean had to admit it was a little kid's heaven. A ball pit, an arcade, skee ball, and a maze of tunnels and slides that spanned the length of the whole place.

Sammy tugged on Dean's hand, pulling him towards a group of kids standing around a table with balloons.

"Phillip!" Sammy said, as they got close, taking the small gift from Dean's other hand and heading towards the group. Dean hung back, just watching Sammy.

The other kids greeted Sammy enthusiastically and a woman, who Dean assumed was Phillip's mother, even ruffled Sammy's hair. Sammy had a mile-long smile on his face, clearly reveling in the attention.

After a few minutes, Sammy pointed over to Dean and Phillip's mother followed Sammy's gaze, smiling at Dean. She came over and Dean resisted the urge to fall back into the shadows.

"You must be Dean. I've heard a lot about you."

Dean nodded, but said nothing.

"It's very sweet of you to come with your brother. You can play with the other kids and have some pizza, if you want."

"No thanks, ma'am," Dean answered, "I'm just going to sit over there and watch."

The smile on her face faded somewhat, "Okay, sweetie, if you're sure."

She'd just called him "Sweetie," he was definitely sure.

She directed him over to a line of chairs near the back wall, where several anxious mothers were watching the movements of their children with careful eyes.

As Dean took a seat next to them, he couldn't help but think, 'It figures.'

The mother sitting next to him smiled at him sweetly as he settled into his chair, and he ignored her until he spotted Sammy near the slides.

Still feeling her eyes on him, he looked up at her, "First time, huh?" he asked sarcastically. "They grow up so fast," he finished, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.

Usually, this would be where the mother would look at him disapprovingly and ignore him the rest of the day, but not this one.

Her smile brightened and she looked at him as if he were some kind of fluffy pink bunny or floppy-eared puppy, "Aren't you cute?" she said, in a sickly sweet voice.

Yep, he was in hell.

----

An hour into the party, before the pizza was served or the cake was cut, Sammy had tried out every game and every slide in the place at least twice. Dean watched as he interacted with kids his own age and couldn't really remember the last time he'd seen him having this much fun. The thought left a funny feeling in his stomach.

Fortunately, everything was going well and the rat mascot thing, Chuck E., or at least that's what Dean thought its name was and how stupid was that, hadn't shown his face yet. Every time he heard the name Chuckie or any variation on it, he just thought of the killing doll and he didn't think that's what this place was going for.

But apparently Dean had counted his blessings too soon because as soon as he thought it Chuck E., the human sized rat, appeared from the back room, his arms outstretched. The kids went wild over him and Dean followed the rat's movements suspiciously.

His dad had told him about the human monsters out there and he could only imagine what kind of sick, middle-aged pervert was wearing that costume, getting his kicks out of hugging little kids.

The second that thing came close to Sammy, Dean was out of his chair, running over to them, determined to keep his brother safe.

Before he could reach them, Chuck E. had picked Sammy up off the ground and Dean swore that Sammy was protesting, screaming really, so he increased his pace and threw all his body weight into the costumed freak.

"Let go of my brother!" Dean shouted as he collided with rat, who cried out and fell to his knees, loosening his hold on Sammy. It gave Dean enough time to free Sammy from the guy's grasp and punched him with all his might in his stupid, ratty nose with the fake plastic whiskers.

"Don't touch my brother, pervert," Dean yelled as Chuck E. fell back on his knees, moaning.

Satisfied that Chuck E. was down for the count, he turned back to Sammy, who was looking at him with tears in his eyes.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean asked.

Tears fell down Sammy's face at the question and he glared at Dean, "Why'd you do that?"

Dean was confused at the question. Hadn't Sammy been scared just then? Or maybe he'd been laughing. Dean wasn't so sure anymore

By this time, other kids and parents were crowding around them, staring at Dean like he was the plague. Chuck E. had removed his rat head and was holding his nose as blood gushed out of it, seeping through his fingers. Without the head on, Dean realized he was just a teenage boy, about 15 or 16, with glasses and pimples. Probably not a pervert, but you never know.

Dean looked at the other people around them. Little kids were crying, staring open-mouthed at Dean like he'd killed Chuck E. instead of just maiming him a little. Parents were glaring at him and a number of Chuck E. Cheese's employees were making their way over to him.

Dean turned back to look at Sammy, the only one that mattered, and the tears were gone from his face. Now, the five-year-old just looked pissed.

"I hate you!" he screamed, his face red with anger. "You always have to ruin everything! I was having fun!"

"I ruin everything?" Dean shouted back, "Look in the mirror, butthead."

Sammy let out a growl, an actual growl, and punched Dean in the shoulder. It didn't really hurt, but it did piss Dean off.

"You little . . ." Dean began, but was cut off by someone coming up behind him and restraining him. He stepped down hard on the person's foot and whipped his head backwards into his stomach. When the person let him go, he turned and saw it was the manager of the place and he did not look happy.

"Where are your parents?" the man yelled.

Phillip's mom stepped in then, "They're not here. Dean was just supposed to be watching his brother."

"Well, _Dean_, can leave now," the manager said. "There is no violence here."

"You can't throw an eight-year-old boy out on the streets," Phillip's mom said.

"Nine," Dean corrected, "I'm nine," but neither of the adults heard him.

"He can wait outside until his mom comes," the manager said.

"It doesn't matter," Dean cut in, grabbing hold of Sammy's arm and dragging him towards the door, "We're leaving."

But Sammy dug his heels into the ground and refused to cooperate. "No!" he cried, "I'm not leaving. We haven't even had pizza yet or cake and I don't wanna leave."

"Tough," Dean responded, continuing to drag Sammy towards the door.

But then Phillip's mom stepped in front of him, stopping their progress. "Dean," she said forcefully, "let your brother go. He can stay for the rest of the party until your mom gets here, okay?"

Dean wanted to tell her that that wasn't happening, that when Dean said they were leaving, they were leaving, and that if they were waiting for their mother, they'd be waiting forever.

"We're supposed to walk home and we're leaving now," Dean told her.

With a disapproving frown on her face, Phillip's mom knelt down to Dean's level, something Dean absolutely hated, and said, "Sammy's happy here, Dean. Don't you want him to be happy?"

Dean opened his mouth to protest, to tell her that fine Sammy was happy, but _he_ wasn't and why did it have to be about Sammy all the time anyway? But Dean didn't do it, he just gave in, and released Sammy and let Phillip's mom, Mrs. Watkins she told him, lead him outside the door to sit on the curb and wait for the end of the party.

He looked back at Sammy through the glass windows, but Sammy wasn't looking at him. He was already headed back to play with his friends.

Dejected, Dean slumped down to the curb, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

Why did simplest things always blow up in his face?

----

Sammy couldn't believe how mean Dean was. He'd been having such a good time, playing with the other kids and then Chuck E. had come and he'd picked Sammy out to lift into the air and Dean must've been jealous or something because he had to ruin his fun, just like always.

Sammy could see Dean sitting outside from where he was playing, still watching him. Sammy turned away immediately; he didn't want to look at Dean's stupid head right now.

Pretty soon, the other kids forgot about Dean punching Chuck E. and Sammy was relieved at that. They had pizza and cake and then Phillip opened his presents. Sammy smiled broadly when Phillip actually liked the water guns and police set he and Dean had bought at the dollar store.

Just then, Sammy felt a little guilty for the way he was treating Dean. Sure, Dean got a little crazy sometimes, but he'd practically paid for Phillip's entire gift. Sammy remembered that he only had about fifty cents, which meant that Dean paid for more than half. Sammy stole a peek at Dean then, who wasn't looking in his direction at that point, and he felt a little sorry for the things he'd said, but he was still angry.

After presents, they had a little more time to play but then it was time to leave. Sammy thanked Mrs. Watkins and when he got his goody bag, she stopped him, asking him how he was getting home.

"We're walking," he told her.

"But that's almost two miles."

Sammy shrugged, "We walked here."

Mrs. Watkins shook her head, "No, I'll give you boys a ride home. Why don't you want outside for me with your brother."

"Okay," Sammy said, heading out towards Dean.

Dean was standing off to the side when Sammy walked out. "Ready?" he asked gruffly.

"Mrs. Watkins said she was giving us a ride home."

Dean shook his head, "Dad said to walk."

"Mrs. Watkins won't let us. Besides Dad let her bring me home from school that day you were sick."

Dean sighed, then shrugged, "Whatever."

Sammy opened his goody bag and pulled out a blue airhead, Dean's favorite, and started eating it in front of him, making loud chomping noises.

Dean glared at him, but said nothing.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Watkins came out with Phillip, carrying his presents, and guided them to a blue minivan parked in the parking lot.

Mrs. Watkins loaded the presents into the trunk then opened the side door for the boys. Phillip and Sammy climbed in first, claiming the two captain's chairs, leaving the very back seat to Dean.

Dean climbed in reluctantly and belted himself in, checking involuntarily that Sammy had done the same.

"So boys," Mrs. Watkins said as they turned onto the road, "where's your father today?"

"Working," Dean answered, "he's a mechanic."

"And your mom?"

Dean hated this question, why did she have a right to know this stuff? "She's visiting relatives up in Boston," Dean answered before Sammy could.

"Na uh," Sammy said, "he's lying. Our mom's dead."

Dean felt a blush creep into his cheeks and he fought the desire to hit Sammy on the back of the head.

"Oh my," Mrs. Watkins said, "I'm sorry, boys."

Sammy just kept eating his airhead and Dean didn't answer.

Ten minutes later, Mrs. Watkins pulled into the driveway of their house and Sammy and Dean climbed out.

"Thank you, Mrs. Watkins," Sammy said sweetly, then waved goodbye to Phillip.

Dean murmured the same and was about to follow Sammy up to the door when Mrs. Watkins stopped him.

"Dean," she said amusedly, "try not to beat up anymore talking animals okay?"

Dean couldn't help but smile at her good-natured humor. "I'll do my best, but that Easter Bunny is just asking for it."

Mrs. Watkins laughed and then waved, pulling out of the driveway.

Dean joined Sammy at the door, took the key from his pocket and unlocked it.

Sammy stomped into the house without a look in Dean's direction. Dean rolled his eyes in annoyance then went into the kitchen to see what they had for dinner.

As he was opening the can of Chef Boyardee Ravioli, Sammy came into the kitchen, holding something behind his back.

Dean narrowed his eyes at him, "What are you hiding?"

Slowly, Sammy brought his arm out from behind his back and held up an envelope in his hand. "I found this under your pillow."

Dean felt a flush creep into his cheeks, "Give that back. It's not yours."

Sammy backed away as Dean lunged forward. "I already read it," Sammy informed him, "it's for the regional science fair. You got picked for it. Why didn't go?"

Dean stopped his advance, then shrugged. "It's not important."

But Sammy wouldn't stop there. "But it is important. Only smart kids get picked for it."

"Gee, thanks for the support, Sammy."

"Dean," Sammy said, "please, just tell me."

Dean sighed, "It was today, okay? The same time as your stupid party. And Dad said you couldn't go if I didn't. Get it?"

"Oh," Sammy said, suddenly ashamed of the things he'd said to Dean.

Dean went back to the ravioli, dumping it into a pot and turning on the burner.

"I'm sorry for saying you ruin everything," Sammy said. "That's not true."

Dean just grunted in response and wouldn't look at Sammy.

"You want some candy?" Sammy asked as he held out his goody bag to Dean.

Dean turned and eyed it. "Got any blue airheads left?"

Sammy nodded and pulled one out, handing it to Dean. Dean took it, unwrapped it, and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth at once. Sammy watched, transfixed.

Through the blue half-chewed airhead in his mouth, Dean said, "I'm sorry for beating up the rat."

"It's okay," Sammy said, "he was kinda creepy."

Dean laughed and finished chewing his airhead. Then he stuck out his tongue and Sammy giggled because the airhead had dyed it blue. Then Sammy stuck out his own tongue.

"Not as blue as mine," Dean told him.

"Not yet," Sammy said, as he began opening another airhead.

"Hey, you gotta wait until after dinner."

"Okay, but then I'm going to have the most colorful tongue ever, like a rainbow!" Sammy declared.

"In your dreams! You can't beat me," Dean said.

----

After dinner and the airhead challenge, Dean and Sammy were lying side by side on the floor completely full and unable to move.

They were both inspecting each other's tongues.

"It's like brown now," Sammy said.

"Yours too. I guess that's what happens when you mix all the colors," Dean said.

They fell back into silence for a few moments, shoulder to shoulder.

"You're the best, Dean," Sammy whispered.

"Still?"

"Yep," Sammy said.

"You're not too bad yourself . . . for a geeky little brother."

Then Sammy launched himself on top of Dean, digging his bony knees into Dean's chest, and Dean wouldn't have wanted it any other way.


End file.
